


The Draw Of Home

by DobbyRocksSocks



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Beauty and the Beast!AU, Bruce Needs a Hug, Bucky is Lumiere, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Pepper is Mrs Potts because PUN, Peter is as adorable as chip as he is as Peter, Steve is Cogsworth, TW: Mentions of abuse and neglect, Tony Needs a Hug, idk how to tag, they both get hugs, tw: agoraphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:15:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25814908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DobbyRocksSocks/pseuds/DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: Howard goes missing on a work trip, and Tony goes to find his father. He finds much more. After a contentious start, can Tony learn to love the unlovable? And what about Bruce, the only human in a castle filled with animated objects.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Tony Stark
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	The Draw Of Home

Small town life wasn’t for Tony Stark. 

Everything about the village he lived in screamed of a pedestrianism that made his skin  _ itch.  _ He wanted to get out and explore, to be free to invent and show those inventions to the world. 

He wanted to see new things, learn new things, meet new people and hear their own ideas for the way the world should be moving forwards. 

While his father held the key to his ball and chain, Tony knew he’d never escape. 

He was a cash cow, a brain for Howard to steal and call his own. He’d tried so often to prove himself to his father, only for Howard to take his inventions and pass them off as his own. 

Howard had always been jealous of Tony’s intuitive brain and fast working fingers. 

Tony buried himself in the few books he could get his hands on, reading them time and time again until he knew them by heart. Howard brought him books dressed up as gifts that would only be offered because Tony could take their knowledge and turn it into something Howard could take from him. 

There was no freedom in small town life. 

Nothing could stop Tony from dreaming though. One day… one day he’d be free to leave and find his own place in the world. 

Until that day, Tony would dream. 

… 

He watched from the window as Howard loaded the machine into the back of the carriage. That was his, his idea, his invention, and now it was being taken away. 

Howard was heading to a convention, where he’d showcase  _ his  _ latest masterpiece, the name STARK carved into the metal in cursive writing to display to the world that Howard had done it again. 

It made Tony sick, to see Howard smile smugly to himself as he covered the machine carefully in a silk blanket before he closed the curtains and tied them. 

He heard the door close below, heard murmuring voices and then his name being called. Tony wanted to ignore it, to make his father go red in the face as he bellowed for Tony, wanted to ruin his leaving because why should he get to be happy when he was  _ stealing  _ Tony’s freedom. 

Shaking his head to himself, Tony stood from the window seat and left his room. If he made Howard angry, he’d only pay for it in bruises and broken bones, and what good would that do? Howard would still be leaving and Tony would still be left at home. 

When he reached the bottom of the staircase, his father was sitting beside his mother on the small loveseat. 

“Harness Thor up,” Howard said, waving to the door dismissively. “I’ll be leaving shortly.” 

Tony realised his mother was crying silently and sighed, turning away. It was nothing new. 

His mother was agoraphobic—she refused to leave the ‘safety’ of the house, though Tony never really understood what was so unsafe about the outside—and so she couldn’t join Howard on his trips. 

She always cried before he left—and after, no matter how much Tony tried to ignore it. 

He left the house and walked around to the stable at the side to get their horse, Thor. 

He was a beautiful horse, purebred and strong, and his name had been at Tony’s request; one of the few indulgences that Howard had allowed his son during his nineteen years of life. 

An obsession with norse mythology when he was younger had stuck, even years after he’d devoured everything he could get his hands on about the subject. 

“Hey, Bud,” he murmured, stroking the horses flank. “You’re going to take Howard to the city today. I think you should try and dump him in the woods on the way, you hear me? And then you can come back and get me, and we’ll run away to the city together; escape this dull life. What do you say? Think you can do that for me?” 

He fed the horse a sugarcube from his palm and smiled when Thor butted his shoulder with his long nose. 

“Attaboy. Come on then, let’s get you all harnessed to the carriage. Wouldn’t do to take too long, would it? I don’t want to send him off with you while he’s in a bad mood.” 

Tony continued murmuring softly to the horse the whole time he attached the harness and made sure he was nice and secure. When he was finished, he took a moment to nuzzle the horse. 

“You be safe, boy, you hear me. You come home safe.” 

Tony stepped away and returned to the house, where his father was already standing, gently but firmly prying Maria’s hand from his wrist. Tony barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the display. 

It frustrated him that she had the opportunity to leave and wouldn’t. 

“May I come with you, Father?” Tony requested softly, as he did every time Howard left for the city. “I won’t talk. I just… I just want to see.” 

Howard scoffed rudely and shook his head. “I don’t have time for your  _ sightseeing,  _ Boy. Stay here and look after your mother.” 

“But—” 

“Enough,” Howard snapped, stomping out of the door. 

Tony watched him go and sighed. 

One day. 

… 

It had been a week since Howard left and Maria was still tearing up at least twice a day. Tony ignored her as best he could, cleaning up behind her as empty bottles rolled on the floor beside her bed, and pill packets littered the dresser. 

How Howard could proclaim to love her and let her carry on like this, Tony had no idea. He’d never had a relationship before to know what they were truly like, but he had to hope and pray that this wasn’t what it was like for everyone. 

If it was, Tony didn’t think he’d ever be able to bring himself to be in a relationship. 

He’d seen others in the village that acted differently of course, but when he’d asked, Howard had always scoffed and called them ‘weak-minded and inbred’, and Tony didn’t want to be that either. 

Letting himself out of the house quietly so as not to disturb his mother, Tony sat on the bench in the garden, a book open in his lap. It was one he’d read before, of course, but it remained one of his favourites. 

It was about robotics, and the possibilities they offered in the future. Tony would love to be the one to make all of those possibilities reality, but he didn’t want to give them to Howard. 

He refused to let himself design them, or even think about them too often, because when Tony made a robot, it would have his name on it, not his fathers. 

A whinnying sound caught his attention, and he looked up automatically, his brow furrowing when he realised that he hadn’t been daydreaming and that it really was Thor coming towards him, his bridle ripped and mangled. 

“Thor?” 

Tony caught the horse’s bridle in one of the few places it was still holding firm, steadying him, patting his side to calm him. 

The door opened, and Maria stood there, clutching her handkerchief to her mouth, her eyes wide with fear. 

“Go inside, Mom,” Tony said quietly. “I’ll be in soon.” 

“Where is your father?” she demanded, staring at the horse and the destroyed bridle. “Tony… what happened to Howard?” 

Tony shook his head. “I don’t know.” 

… 

Tony settled Thor in the stable and fed him quietly, stroking his fingers through his mane. 

What  _ had  _ happened to Howard? 

“You know I didn’t mean it, don’t you, boy? You didn’t just ditch him in the woods, did you?” he asked, shaking his head at himself. “This will destroy mom. I’ll come back soon, okay, to check on you. Try and get some rest, Buddy.” 

Thor neighed pitifully, and with a final pat, Tony left the stable for his mother’s side. She was waiting for him on the sofa, a fresh bottle of alcohol open beside her, thankfully still full. 

“What happened to your father?” 

“Mom… I don’t know,” Tony admitted. “The carriage has been pulled away from Thor by force, though I don’t have any idea what would have the strength to do such a thing. There was no sign of the carriage or dad though.” 

“You need to go and find him, Tony.” 

“Mom—” 

“I need him,” she begged. “Who’s to look after me if he can’t return home? I  _ need  _ you to go and find your father, Tony.” 

Tony felt a familiar bitterness that, once again, his mother was putting his father above him. 

“And if whatever happened to Howard happens to me? Who’s to look after you then, Mother?” 

She looked at him through dazed eyes for a long moment and then shook her head. “I need Howard. Please Tony. Go and find him.” 

… 

Thor trotted through the woods, Tony upon his back. He’d had to use the spare bridle, but the saddle was his own thankfully. He wore a travelling cloak around his shoulders, but it did nothing to protect him from the sheets of rain falling through the trees in places. 

Tony couldn’t deny that the wish to just run on, past the woods and to the city, was almost all-consuming. He could be free without the constraints his parents forced upon his shoulders. 

He could be anyone he wanted to be, and there was no stopping him. 

Only the look in his mother’s eyes before he’d left forced Tony to ask for Thor to take him to his father. In the distance, a castle loomed, and Tony couldn’t help but stare. 

It was imposing certainly, but there was a… a darkness that shrouded it, one that made Tony shudder. He wasn’t sure what it was about the castle that made him want to turn and run, but it was with a sudden certainty that he knew that was his eventual destination. 

His imagination didn’t need any help to conjure up what could be waiting for him there. 

When they finally reached the large iron gates, Tony dismounted Thor and tied him carefully to the railing. 

“Wait here for me, Boy,” he murmured, before slipping through the gap in the railing. He looked around him as he walked up the path, sure that shadows were about to leap for him, as they shifted in the moonlight. 

He was almost certain that he was being watched, the feeling of eyes on him making him unconsciously pull his cloak around him. 

The door to the castle was open just a touch, though it was the opposite of inviting. 

He pushed on regardless, able to slip through the door without moving it much. The inside was as dull and gloomy as the outside, and Tony looked around at the dusty interior, wrinkling his nose at the layer of dirt that seemed to coat everything in sight. 

He wondered if he should call out but decided against it. He was quite sure that his arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed by whoever or  _ whatever  _ resided in the castle and he could still feel eyes on him. 

Cautiously, Tony climbed the stairs, grimacing when he looked at the banister to see the same dirt and dust covering it as was the rest of the atrium. 

The stairs were side, and Tony could almost picture them being stunning, if only someone was to take care of the castle in the way it deserved. 

“NOT WELCOME!” 

Tony froze. 

He didn’t know where the  _ roar  _ had come from, but he was sure that it wasn’t a sound that could be accomplished with human lungs and tone range. 

Stumbling back down the stairs, Tony practically fell through the door beside the staircase, running down the narrower stairs when he heard a loud bang behind him. 

He didn’t stop to look at where he was going, he just kept running down the stairs until he hit the bottom, leading to a stone tile corridor of sorts. It was lit with torches, and Tony could hear whatever was behind him gaining, the rhythmic thuds coming closer and closer. 

Each side of the corridor seemed to be lined with cells, and Tony swallowed nervously as he crept through. Each cell seemed to be empty, all except the last one on the left, from which a familiar voice shouted, “Help!” 

“Dad?” 

“Tony?” 

… 

Tony ran to the end to see his father sitting on a stone bed, a thin blanket draped around his shoulders. He looked the worst Tony had ever seen him, and he stared for a moment. 

“What is that thing?” he asked. “What’s keeping you here?” 

“A monster,” Howard groaned. “I was just getting a flower for your mother. I thought she’d like them, you know she likes flowers.” 

Tony frowned. “And he—it—caught you?” 

Howard nodded, just as the monster appeared at the end of the pathway. 

“Puny human not welcome,” it growled, stepping closer. 

Tony almost couldn’t believe what his eyes were seeing. It was huge, hunched over to fit in the space. It was  _ green,  _ and it’s monstrous fists were clenched tightly. 

“I… I just came for my father,” Tony said, his voice shaking. “My mother, she needs him.” 

“No steal from Hulk!” 

“He wasn’t trying to,” Tony explained quietly. “He just wanted a flower for her; she’s sick, but flowers make her smile.” 

The monster—Hulk?—huffed angrily, shaking his—its?—head. “NO STEAL!” 

“How long must he be punished for a flower?” Tony asked, raising his head bravely to look Hulk in the eye. “How can he make reparations?” 

“Puny human mine! Prisoner stays!” 

Desperately, Tony looked at Howard, who’d gotten up from the stone bench-bed and was standing by the bars. 

“What if I offered you my son in replacement?” Howard asked, his voice croaky and weak. He didn’t even look at Tony when Tony gasped. 

The Hulk seemed to consider that and Tony felt like his lungs were about to collapse in his chest. His father really had so little regard for him that he’d just… gift him to a  _ monster?  _

_ “ _ Dad—” 

“Your mother needs me at home, Tony, don’t be so selfish,” Howard hissed, and Tony took an unsteady step back, his back hitting the brick wall. 

“One puny human stays, one leave!” Hulk said eventually, coming closer. His large hand fumbled with the lock for a moment before it opened and the door creaked open. 

Howard pushed his way out and glanced back at Tony. He didn’t say another word before he walked away. Tony watched him go and wondered how it must feel to be such a coward that you’d exchange your own life for that of your child. 

Hulk prodded him, and then glared at him until he entered the cell Howard had just left. The lock was clicked back into place and Tony sat down on the bench, only then realising that Howard had taken the only blanket. 

He heard the retreating footsteps of the Hulk, and he lay down on the stone bed, curling himself up into a ball, as small as he could get. 

He supposed in the end, he was only swapping one prison for another; and at least this one was likely to kill him faster. 

… 

Tony woke up, exhausted, sore and famished. He didn’t know how long he’d been there, but it couldn’t have been more than a day. He wasn’t sure what woke him, beyond the hunger pains in his stomach, but then he heard a strange clanging sound coming from the stone corridor. 

He pushed himself up, wincing at the aches that came more pronounced with movement, and walked over to the bars that were keeping him in the cell. 

For a moment, he didn’t see anything, and then he heard, “Down here, genius.” 

He looked down and  _ blinked. Twice.  _

“Insanity didn’t take long at all, did it?” 

The candlestick that had just  _ spoken  _ to him  _ rolled it’s eyes,  _ and Tony felt his knees buckle beneath him. He landed hard, crying out wordlessly in pain when his knees hit the stone floor. 

“Oh, that’s gotta hurt,” the candlestick said, and Tony laughed hysterically, because he’d just broken his knees and the candlestick was talking and he had clearly lost his mind. 

“Do try and be serious,” the carriage clock beside the candlestick said. 

Tony just laughed harder. “Of course you talk too. Of course you do.” 

“The master sure kept a loon, didn't he?” the candlestick said. He looked at Tony. “You alright, Kid?” 

“Oh never better,” Tony replied, wiping the tears from his eyes. He didn’t know if they were tears of pain or laughter, and he didn’t really want to know at this point. 

If he was falling into insanity, he doubted he’d care about things like that for much longer anyway. 

“I’m Steve,” the carriage clock told him stiffly. “And this is Bucky.” 

“Right. Of course. You know, the only thing more ridiculous than a talking clock called Steve, is a talking candlestick called Bucky.”

“Well I wasn’t always a candlestick,” Bucky said, shaking his head. 

“I mean… a person called Bucky isn’t much better than a candlestick called Bucky to be fair. Did your mum just really not like you?” Tony asked, shifting gingerly off his knees so he was sitting properly, his legs crossed in front of him. 

“My real name is James, smartass. Bucky is a nickname.” 

“Erm. Right. Well,  _ James,  _ if you weren’t always a candlestick, who did you piss off?” 

“Don’t even think about it,” Steve the clock hissed. “We’re not allowed too—” 

“It’s not like he’s going to tell the master we blabbed, is it?” Bucky replied. “Besides, he might be the way we break the thing. I’d actually really like my body back at some point this century, you know? I miss… things.” 

Steve just stared at him blankly. “You’re a pain in the ass, Buck, you know that?” 

“The fact that I’m not being a pain in the ass is kinda the main problem here, Stevie.” 

Tony snorted. “Well then. I’m never going to be able to get the idea of a candlestick and a clock doing the nasty out of my head, so that’s a good start. Is one of you going to explain what the hell is going on here?” 

Steve shook his head, but Bucky just shoved him gently. 

“There’s a—” 

He cut himself off, both of them turning towards the door. 

“We weren’t here,” Bucky hissed, as the two of them moved quicker than Tony would have thought possible disappearing into the darkness of the corridor. 

A few moments later, Tony heard footsteps. 

Human sounding footsteps. 

… 

“Uh. Hi.” 

Tony blinked at the man standing in front of the cell. He had short brown hair and was about Tony’s height, and he stood like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

“I’m here to move you upstairs,” the man said quietly. “Please don’t fight me or try to escape, it never ends well.” 

“Um. Who are you?” Tony asked. “Are you a prisoner here too?” 

“Of sorts,” the man said, and he looked slightly amused. “But no. I… work here, I suppose. I’m Bruce.” 

“Bruce. I… I’m Tony.” 

“Tony,” Bruce repeated, nodding his head. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I hate that you’re here, so I won’t. You won’t run if I open the lock?” 

“Don’t think I can,” Tony admitted. “I fell earlier, hurt my knees.” 

Bruce frowned. “I’ll take a look. I’m a doctor of sorts, though admittedly not a medical one. I’ll be able to wrap them for you though, if it’s necessary, and I’ll try and find you some pain medication.” 

“Um. Is there any chance I could eat?” Tony asked, uncertainly. “I haven’t had anything since I got here and not much for hours before that.” 

Bruce nodded. “Of course, I’ll have something arranged as soon as I have you settled.” He unlocked the door. “Come with me.” 

Tony hobbled after Bruce down the corridor and up the stairs, stumbling a few times in the darkness. Bruce was patient with him, pausing whenever he needed too, but Tony couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t reach out to touch him or help him. 

They made it back up to the atrium and Tony couldn’t help but glance at the main doors. What he wouldn’t give to go back and tell himself to leave, that his father wasn’t worth saving. 

“Please don’t,” Bruce said, and then stepped onto the large staircase. 

Tony hesitated for a few more seconds before he acknowledged that he probably wouldn’t get far. Howard had undoubtedly taken Thor with him when he left, and there was no way Tony could outrun the Hulk, even if he didn’t know where the monster was right at that moment. 

He followed Bruce up the stairs and along a long corridor. The photos on the walls were old, the kind of paintings he’d seen in history books. 

Oddly, there was one that looked exactly like Bruce. 

“Did your family grow up here?” he asked, nodding to the painting when Bruce turned to look at him quizzically. 

Bruce’s eyes were pained when they looked at the painting, and he didn’t linger long before he looked down at the ground. “Something like that.” 

They walked a little further, and then Bruce was pushing a door open, and gesturing for Tony to go in ahead of him. 

“This will be your room,” he said quietly. 

Tony looked around with interest. The bed looked comfortable and it was piled with soft looking blankets and pillows in royal purple and gold. There was a large double wardrobe and a desk, and while it was quite sparse apart from those, it was a nice room. 

“Um. Why am I being moved up here instead of the cell?” 

“Did you want to stay down there?” 

“Not particularly. I just… guess I didn’t expect this when I was locked in there, you know?” 

Bruce offered him a sad smile. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you’re here at all. If things could be different…” 

Tony nodded. “It’s… it is what it is.” 

“Sit down, and I’ll take a look at your knees.” 

… 

The room was certainly an upgrade on the cell, and Tony was beyond thankful for the bed, which was indeed as comfortable as it had looked, but he was  _ bored.  _

It had been days since Bruce had moved him upstairs, and he hadn’t seen the man since, though food had been delivered like clockwork three times a day. 

The only feature he’d been able to find that he actually liked was the view. He wiled away hours at a time looking out of the window, curled up on the small window seat, and looked out over the grounds. 

They were stunning, despite the never ending miserable weather than seemed to cover the castle and grounds. If it wasn’t torrential rain, it was hail and sleet, or vicious winds that seemed to make a challenge of tearing down the trees. 

Right now it was snowing, an upgrade, Tony thought, given the way it so prettily covered everything in a sheet of white, making it the brightest Tony had seen it since he’d arrived. 

None of that helped with the boredom though. 

His knees were feeling better at least. Bruce had wrapped them in bandages for him and gotten him medications, and now he could walk almost normally again. 

Standing up, Tony approached the door to the room with trepidation. Technically, nobody had told him that he had to stay in the room. Bruce had just asked him not to run away. 

If he remained in the castle, he wasn’t running, right? 

He tried the door handle and was surprised to find the door open under his touch. He stepped out into the corridor, only to find a tea tray on wheels pulling to a stop outside the room. 

“Oh, hello dear,” the teapot said, her painted lips stretching into a smile. 

“Hi,” Tony replied. Hell, he’d already learnt about a candlestick and clock doing the nasty, what was a talking teapot against that? “What’s your name?” 

“Pepper. And you’re Tony, yes? The whole castle is talking about you, dear, you’ve caused quite the stir.” 

“Pepper the teapot? Pepper-pot.” 

She laughed, a tinkling sound that immediately brought a smile to his face. 

“What are you doing out here, dear?” she asked then, but Tony was interrupted by a teacup hopping up onto the tea tray. 

“Hi! I’m Peter! Are you Tony? Pepper is this Tony? It’s so good to meet you, mr uh, Mr Tony? Hi!” 

Tony laughed lightly. “Hi, Peter.” 

“Sorry, I um, hi?” 

Pepper laughed, and shushed Peter gently before looking at Tony expectantly. 

“Oh. I uh, I just wanted to have a look around?” Tony offered, shuffling his foot on the floor. “I was getting a bit bored, you know? There isn’t much to do in there.” 

“Oh, of course dear. Stay out of the west wing and I’m sure you’ll be fine.” 

“The west wing?” 

She pursed her painted lips. “Yes. Would you like a cup of tea before you go, dear?” 

“Oh, um, no thanks,” Tony replied. “I’m just going to… take a walk I guess.” 

Her eyes narrowed for a moment before she smiled. “Of course dear. Make sure you’re back in time for lunch, won’t you?” 

… 

Howard had always said that Tony was too curious for his own good. Tony tried to tell him that he wasn’t, he just liked to understand things, but he was beginning to think that perhaps he’d had a point.

Even if he had just been saying it to be cruel. 

The west wing was  _ destroyed.  _ Tony got the feeling that this was where the Hulk lived, because the furniture was all broken into pieces, and there were scuff marks all over the floor and the walls. 

He turned to leave, sure that he didn’t want to be found here, just like Pepper had said, but he caught sight of another painting like the one he’d seen in the hallway with a likeness to Bruce, hanging over what had been a four-poster bed. 

The frame had been busted, but it was the ripped canvas that caught Tony’s eye, almost like someone had intentionally slashed it, right across the throat. 

He frowned, stepping closer, staring up at it. There was something about the eyes that were different, but other than that, it was definitely the mild mannered man who’d shown him to his bedroom. 

Something in Tony’s brain itched, but he couldn’t quite reach it. There was something— 

Tony was thrown to the side by a large green arm. He hit the wall and slid to the ground, groaning in pain. 

“Puny Human not be here!” the Hulk shouted, glaring down at Tony. He picked Tony up from the floor and stomped towards the door, throwing Tony unceremoniously through it. 

“NO WEST WING!” 

The door was slammed shut so hard that the walls practically shook, dust shaking free from the doorframe and surrounding pictures. 

Tony pressed his face into the carpet and groaned in pain. 

He was lucky he hadn’t been  _ killed.  _

… 

“I heard about what happened.” 

Tony opened his eyes to see Bruce sitting at his bedside. Tony had no idea how he’d even gotten back to his room, never mind tucked beneath the blankets of his bed. 

“Uh?” 

“With the master,” Bruce clarified, a pained smile on his face. “I’ve treated you as best I could, but I’m afraid you’ll be stuck in bed recovering for a few days. I, uh, Pepper told me that you’d said you were bored, so I’ve fetched you a few books.” 

“Thanks,” Tony said, propping himself up a little. “And… it was my own fault. Pepper told me not to go to the West Wing. I guess I just… don’t deal well with being told not to do something. Makes me curious.” 

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Bruce murmured. 

“Probably a good job I’m not a cat; although I’m beginning to wonder, with the way I’m not dead yet. I’ve certainly made an indent into those nine lives.” 

Bruce chuckled and then stood. He looked exhausted. 

“Bruce?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Why do you stay here? Why don’t you just… run away. I don’t see the Hulk around much, you could probably leave without too much effort. I just… I don’t understand why you’re here.” 

Bruce smiled sadly. “I’m as trapped here as you are, Tony. Perhaps even more so. Get some rest, you’ll feel better.” 

… 

Another week passed, and Tony saw Bruce only once, when he came to offer Tony more books and check on his injuries. Tony tried to question him more, but he’d closed himself off, only offering up a tired smile in answer. 

Tony wondered if it was possible to help someone who didn’t seem to want to be helped. 

And perhaps Bruce was content to remain trapped in this dusty old castle for the rest of his life, but Tony wasn’t. 

He rested up, as Bruce told him too, and he let his injuries heal while the animated objects in the castle catered to his every whim, all the while planning his escape. 

He’d seen Hulk from his window on the grounds occasionally in the early evening, but he’d never seen him around dawn and he’d never seen him late at night. 

Tony thought that while dawn would be easier, nighttime would offer him more cover, should he be seen and chased. He could find a tree to climb and wait until the coast was clear before he left if necessary. 

He wandered the castle for a few days after he was healed, let himself be seen during the evenings so that it didn’t seem odd, him being out of the room. 

He wondered what he’d do once he got beyond the castle gate, but decided that he’d think about that later. He just needed to get away and then he’d work out what came next. 

Tony thought about offering Bruce another chance, offer for him to come along, but he decided against it. As much as he found that he liked the quiet man, he couldn’t quite bring himself to trust him. 

_ Something  _ was keeping him here, and until Tony figured out what, he couldn’t trust him. 

And really, if Tony’s plan went well, it would be a moot point. Tony wouldn’t be here to find out. 

… 

He slipped out of the gate, checking behind himself constantly to make sure he wasn’t being followed. At the window that had been his, he could see the candlelight shining from Bucky, and while he couldn’t see his face, he was sure the candlestick was angry with him. 

Hadn’t he said that Tony could be the one to ‘break the thing’, whatever that meant. Tony didn’t know how he could have fixed what was happening in that castle, but Bucky had certainly thought he might be able too. 

It saddened Tony that he hadn’t been able to help the candlestick. He was fond of Bucky, and of Pepper and Peter too, and yes of course, he’d liked Bruce. 

He just… couldn’t stay. 

The woods were terrifying at night though. Tony crept through them, jumping at every sound or shadow that he crossed. A low growl caught his attention and he froze, looking around. 

In the shadows to the left, he could see eyes, glowing ominously in the darkness. A second growl joined the first and Tony pressed himself back into a tree, searching it behind his back for hand holds so he could climb it. 

When third, fourth and fifth growls added to the growing symphony, real fear crawled up his spine. 

A wolf stepped from the shadows, slather building around its jaw. Tony squeaked and turned to the tree, scrambling to climb it. 

A roar sounded, and from nowhere, the great green mass that was the Hulk exploded into Tony’s view, swiping at the numerous wolves bursting from the shadows. 

Tony could only watch on with terror as one by one the wolves fell to the Hulk’s rage until only the two of them were left standing in the clearing. 

“You saved me,” Tony murmured, when the Hulk turned wounded eyes on him. “Why did you save me?” 

“Puny Bruce like Tony. Hulk save Tony for Puny Bruce.” 

Tony blinked. “You saved me for Bruce?” 

“Come,” Hulk said, holding his hands out to Tony. 

Tony hesitated for a moment before he stepped forward. The Hulk picked him up with gentle hands and set off back to the castle, carrying Tony as though he weighed nothing. 

They made it back to the castle in no time at all and the Hulk put Tony down carefully in the atrium. 

“No running,” he murmured. 

Tony looked up at him. “Why are you always so angry?” he asked, his head tilting to the side. 

The Hulk looked back, and for the first time, Tony realised that he wasn’t just a monster. There was pain in his eyes, a vulnerability that Tony couldn’t imagine in someone so imposing. 

Something akin to a smile stretched his lips for a moment, and he reached up to Tony’s head, plucking something from his hair. He held the flower out to Tony, and the sight of such a small, delicate thing in the large green hand was so juxtaposed that Tony couldn’t help but stare for a moment. 

And then he reached out and took the flower. 

“Tony sleep,” the Hulk said, and compared to some of the sounds he’d heard come from him, it was practically a whisper. 

Tony nodded. “Goodnight.” 

… 

“Oh. Hi.” 

The Hulk looked at him, and grunted. 

“I was, uh, looking for Bruce.” 

The Hulk nodded. “Library. Puny Bruce is always in the library.” 

Tony’s eyes widened. “There’s a library? Can you, uh, tell me where it is?” 

Hulk stared for a moment before he pushed himself up to his feet. “Come.” 

Tony had to practically jog to keep up with the Hulk’s wide strides, but when he opened the double doors to reveal a well lit library, he stopped and just… admired it for a moment. 

“I think I just died and found heaven,” he muttered. “But uh. Bruce isn’t here?” 

“He’ll come,” Hulk assured him as Tony stepped past him. He left, the doors closing softly behind him, but Tony barely even noticed, his attention drawn to the many,  _ many  _ books lining the walls. 

By the time Bruce found him there, Tony was curled up in a plush armchair, buried in a book he’d never heard of. 

“So you found the library?” 

Tony looked up and smiled. “Actually, uh, Hulk fetched me here. Told me this was where I could usually find you.” 

Bruce blinked. “He fetched you here?” 

Nodding, Tony said, “Did he, uh. He saved me? Last night. From wolves. I tried to escape I guess, and he uh… yeah, he saved my life and he carried me back and he said it was because uh… he saved me for you. Because you like me.” 

“He…  _ really _ ?” 

Tony nodded again. “Surprised me too.” 

“Huh.” 

“Maybe he thinks you’re, uh, lonely?” Tony offered, mostly because it had crossed his own mind too. If Bruce was the only human here… even with the animated objects, it had to be a lonely life. 

Bruce smiled sadly. “He wouldn’t be wrong. I still wouldn’t wish this on you, Tony. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.” 

Tony glanced around the library and then back to Bruce and smiled. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m beginning to think that maybe it’s not so bad.” 

… 

“Where are you going?” 

Tony huffed. Bucky had asked him that every time he left his room since the Hulk had brought him back. He got it, he supposed, but it was still irritating. 

“I thought I might take a walk on the grounds. Bruce said as long as I stayed within the gates it was fine, and I noticed it was snowing. I like the snow.” 

Bucky nodded, but his eyes were still narrowed distrustfully. 

“Actually, I wanted to ask you about something,” Tony said, pausing. “I tried asking him, but he wouldn’t say. Why is Bruce here and still, you know, human, while the rest of you are… the way that you are.” 

“Um.” 

Bucky looked at Steve while Steve looked at the floor and Tony stared, his mind ticking over, the itch getting more and more prevalent as the dots began to connect themselves together. 

He realised he’d never seen Bruce and the Hulk in the same place, and Bruce… he didn’t strike Tony as the type to announce to the ‘master’ that he liked the prisoner. 

And… why was Bruce allowed to move him from a cell to a bedroom? 

And— 

It was the eyes, he realised. 

“Bruce is the Hulk, isn’t he?” 

Bucky stared at him for a long moment, and then nodded. “He is.” 

… 

“Bucky told me that you’d figured it out,” Bruce said, sitting down on the steps to the castle beside Tony. 

“I thought the news would get around faster to be honest,” Tony admitted. He’d been sitting outside for hours, waiting for Bruce to come and find him. 

He hadn’t been stupid enough to think Bruce wouldn’t find out that he knew the truth. 

“I… I’m under a curse. A witch, I suppose, named Loki placed it upon me so that whenever I get angry I change into the Hulk. I angered him by not allowing him entrance to the castle and he wasn’t pleased by it.” 

Tony frowned. “Loki?” 

Bruce nodded. 

“Like… the trickster god, Loki?” 

“You know him?” 

“It’s Norse Mythology, Bruce. Loki is the trickster god, he… I suppose it sounds like something he would have done to an enemy of his. I read about Norse Mythology when I was younger; named my horse Thor because I was, uh, mildly obsessed with it. But… he’s not a witch. He’s a god.” 

“Huh. Well, regardless of what or who he is, he turned me into a  _ monster. _ ”

“You’re not a monster.” When Bruce opened his mouth to argue, Tony shook his head. “You’re not. And neither is the Hulk. He’s angry because he’s born from anger, Bruce, but… he saved my life when I ran away from him. If he was a monster, he’d have let the wolves have me, or he’d have killed me himself. He’s… he’s not a monster, and neither are you.” 

“I don’t believe in fairytales, Tony. I’m not… this doesn’t have a happy ending, no matter if I’m a monster or not. I can never leave here. I could really hurt people, and if people knew about me, I’d be hunted. It’s lonely, yes, but at least here I have some semblance of peace.” 

Tony sighed. “I… you’re right of course. Anger is a natural part of life, and the nature of people is unchangeable.” 

“You didn’t run though,” Bruce said after a moment. “When you figured it out. You didn’t run.” 

“Have you listened to anything I’ve said?” Tony asked, rolling his eyes. “I liked you before I realised, I like you now. I like him too, now that he’s not throwing me around.” 

Bruce winced. “Tony—” 

“Holy fuck.” 

Bruce followed Tony’s eyeline to see the trees rustling in front of the gates. An army of people appeared, as far as the eye could see. 

Right at the front of them, was Howard Stark. 

… 

Tony ran through the castle, watching as the animated objects protected their home against the intruder. More in the castle that Tony had realised was alive, and it was incredible to see them fight, but he wanted to find the Hulk. 

Bruce had pushed him inside and told him to get to safety before he’d transformed, and in the ensuing battle, Tony had lost him. 

He raced down corridor after corridor, hopelessly lost and gaining frustration with every passing second. There was a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach and he just knew he had to find the Hulk before something irreparable happened. 

He pushed through a door, skidding to a stop when he realised he was in the West Wing. He was sure that he’d be forgiven, and when he heard a wounded moan, he shot through to the balcony to find the Hulk clinging to the railing, blood pouring from his chest. 

Tony looked up to see his father staring back at him from a bulstrode slightly higher up. 

“Hulk,” he murmured. “Hulk, you’re going to be okay, you’re going to be fine. Come on inside, come on.” 

“Tony, move!” Howard screamed, his gun raised for another shot. “I’m going to end this once and for all!” 

Tony shook his head and leaned more against the Hulk, trying to make him move. 

“I won’t tell you again,  _ Son _ . Move!” 

“No!” Tony screamed. “Don’t you think you’ve taken enough from me? You’re not taking him too!” 

Finally the Hulk staggered inside, and collapsed to the floor. Tears fell from Tony’s eyes as he leant over him, trying to see the damage. “You’re not going to die,” he whispered. “You can’t.” 

There was a bright light emanating from the Hulk, getting brighter and brighter, eventually forcing Tony to look away. When the room darkened, Tony opened his eyes gingerly to find Bruce in the Hulk’s place, gasping for breath as he looked up at Tony. 

“Tony—” 

“You’re not going to die,” Tony promised him on a sob, pressing down on the chest wound. “I love you. I love you, Bruce, you’re not going to die.” 

“Tony…” 

“No,” Tony cried. “No, Bruce, don’t leave me. Don’t leave me, I love you.” 

… 

Magic swept across the castle, swirling green and gold. One by one, the animated objects changed back into the humans they’d once been, until the magic culminated in the West Wing. 

Crying onto Bruce’s chest, Tony didn’t notice until a hand stroked through his hair. 

He sat up abruptly, staring down into alert, affectionate eyes. “Bruce?” 

“Tony.” 

“You… you’re okay?” 

The blood that had pooled and stained Bruce’s shirt was gone, leaving it crisp and clean, as though there had never been a wound at all. 

“Tony… he’s gone.” 

“He’s… the Hulk?” 

“He’s gone,” Bruce repeated. “I’m… I’m all me again. I’m free. Tony, I’m free.” 

Tony laughed through his tears, as Bruce surged up and pressed their mouths together in a passionate kiss. When he pulled back, he cupped Tony’s face with his hand. 

“I’m free. And I love you too.” 

Tony smiled. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

… 

The mob were caught up in the magic, Tony learnt later. 

It was like their memories had been wiped, and none of them could remember why they were there. Steve and Bucky had taken care of having them all removed and on their way home. 

All except one. 

Howard was waiting for Tony in the cell. Bruce kept a soft hand on Tony’s back as they made their way down the narrow, stone floored corridor to the end cell; the same one Howard had traded Tony for himself. 

“Tony. You… you’re okay.” 

“Of course I am,” Tony snapped. “Although that’s no thanks to you. What were you thinking?” 

Howard shook his head. “I… I don’t know why I’m here. I wasn’t… I didn’t plan to come back.” 

Bruce’s hand clenched against Tony’s back, but Tony wasn’t surprised. Not really. He didn’t think anything about Howard could shock him anymore.

“What should we do with him?” Bucky asked, when Tony turned away. He didn’t want to be there; he realised that he had nothing more to say. 

“Send him home. He’s not welcome here.” 

… 

“You know, they don’t hold these conventions at your leisure,” Pepper said, shaking her head fondly. “We have to leave if you want to be there on time.” 

Tony wrinkled his nose and turned to Bruce. “Are you sure you won’t come with me?” 

Bruce shook his head. “I’ll be waiting right here for you to come home, but you know I can’t leave my experiments, sweetheart. You’ll only be gone for a week.” 

“Feels like a lifetime,” Tony grumbled, latching onto Bruce, who held him tightly, indulging Tony’s cuddliness the way he always did. 

“I’ll miss you too.” 

Tony pressed his face against Bruce’s shoulder for a moment and then pulled away. 

“Love you, Brucie.” 

“Love you too, Sweetheart.” 

He half listened to Pepper as she went over their itinerary, thanking the lord that she’d decided to stay on at the castle with them. He’d be utterly hopeless without her. 

They reached the atrium—now dust free and bright—to see Bucky and Steve leading the way into the room from… 

“I don’t even want to know what you were doing in there,” Tony said, nodding his head at the broom cupboard. 

Bucky fastened his belt with a salacious grin while Steve blushed bright red and looked away. 

“Keep an eye on my Brucie while I’m gone, please. Make sure he eats and sleeps and gets some company from time to time.”

“Of course, Sir,” Steve said, making Tony roll his eyes. 

“How many times am I going to have to tell you not to call me that,” Tony asked, rolling his eyes. 

“Always once more,” Bucky replied for Steve. 

“Menaces, the pair of you.” 

Tony turned for the door, only for Peter to skid down the stairs. Pepper smiled at him, reaching out to ruffle his hair. The kid was seventeen and practically worshipped Tony. 

Tony still hadn’t gotten the whole story of how he’d even come to be at the castle, except that Bruce had saved him when he’d been young and taken him in. 

One day, he’d find out. 

“Can I come with you?” Peter asked, his puppy-eye game already strong. “I’ll be good, and I won’t talk too much, I promise.” 

Tony had such a strong flashback to his own youth, begging his father to take him along, that he only had one answer to give. 

Pepper sighed when he nodded. “Of course you can. 

He turned back to Bucky and Steve. “And tell Brucie I’ve got Petey with me. You know he’ll worry if he can’t find him.” 

“Thanks, Mr Tony, Sir, I promise, I’ll be really good, you’re the best and—” 

Peter continued rambling as he followed Pepper and Tony to the waiting carriage, and Tony smiled. 

He finally had the opportunity to go out into the world and explore the way he’d always wanted; but now he also understood the draw of home. 

Especially when home was a person and a warm hug. 


End file.
